Acumen
by Sulfur Dusk
Summary: :During Ouverture/Oneshot: Suigintou contemplates her father's true affections as she watches him drift further and further away from her, and more so toward her Maiden sisters...


**This is my first Rozen Maiden fanfic. Personally, I love Suigintou and her very well done and inspirational character. Her drift into madness was very enjoyable to experience in the anime…at least, this oneshot is supposed to take place while she is lying unfinished on the worktable in Rozen's workshop during the prequel events of **_**Ouverture.**_

**xXx**

~ A C U M E N ~

**xXx**

Pale, slim fingers reached upward in order to caress the slim, crumbling features of a stunningly feminine porcelain face. Gleaming magenta eyes glistened toward a wooden, makeshift sky with the believable estimation of escaping the wounded world. The melodious sounds escaping her pursed lips seemed to emanate a creative chorus that would have charmed her creator's magical abilities.

Suigintou was the jewel of her father's eye. The gift of perfection was wafted heavily through the corridors of her artificially enhanced mind. Her entire body was constructed from the finest of detailed works. Tresses of her long pearl hair seemed to slip effortlessly between her motionless fingers. Her expression dwindled from her previous excitement of being able to stare toward her father's glistening, charmingly slim face.

Dolls were often significant reminders of constant achievement and possible perfection. These attributes were what created Alice; what had begun the Alice Game itself. Brooded form the embodiment of one powerful man's expectations; Suigintou was the offspring of a magnificent idea…though her unobservant innocence was sheltered from reality. She never ceased to remember what had become of her father…the creature that had bestowed life upon her, though had never granted her the soul that she wanted.

Was she actually the favorite of her father? Her angelic beauty was dark in every aspect: a lovingly trimmed and mature porcelain face, faded circular cheeks that seemed to gleam with subtle satisfaction; dainty fingers that seemed to grip against one another in childish anticipation; with fleece-soft hair that seemed to billow along her shoulders like dressed silk. Her clothes were sewn from her god's practical hands, his intelligence woven into his first daughter.

She was his creation. His perfection. The apple of his eye; the outcome of his love. So why was she not his entire favorite? Why couldn't he give her the proper love and affection that she truly deserved? Her lips seemed entirely puckered in thought as she waited on the construction table, her split torso untouched since the abandonment of her formerly beautiful features, with the discrimination visible upon her once-gorgeous appearance.

Stricken with realization, the motionless doll seemed to absorb the images before her: wishing that she would be swept into a land where she would be held securely within the arms of her father. The man that had brought her into the world with a falsified heart and soul had abandoned her for the others…her _sisters_. The word seemed incredibly bitter to decipher.

Share her father? Why would she ever want to share? If he had decided to leave her practical corpse in the balance of the good and evil worlds, then he should have returned. But his love, his affection, had transferred toward six other fantastic creations. Masterfully worked upon from hours on end. Crafted expertly.

Suigintou was nothing more than an official pawn; expertly woven into a game of intense psychological aspects. She was frozen within the nick of time. How could she ever wish to travel back into her traitorous father's arms?

Because she was his daughter. His first. His offspring. So why had he abandoned her? Was she not the perfection that he desired?

Though, the mirrored reactions of experiencing his work for the first time released spasms of hatred within the crumbled angel's mind. She watched, effortlessly, as her father caressed the delicate, nimble head of a practically beautiful doll; a creation so effortlessly planned that she seemed to outshine Suigintou by leagues and miles.

The fifth doll.

Suigintou was unsure of how to think of this disgrace. She could not decipher why she was observing her master's movements…she saw him as her father; her god; her savior and her creator. His muscular hands were now stroking the newest effort of his drifting, almost promiscuous love for the red-clothed, practical _woman _in his arms. The abandoned doll watched closely, dark pink ocular crystals narrowing in somewhat suspicion and obvious jealousy as she observed each and every detail of her father's new flower.

Adorned with a childish, yet mature porcelain face; the doll was dressed in fine French apparel. Expensively trimmed and properly sewn clothing draped over her delicate, crystal-jointed features. Glistening, rounder and more properly proportioned ice-blue orbs were fixated tirelessly toward the masterful human. Her dainty, slightly puckered lips seemed to be painted with fine capacity and patience, as if the juiced fragments of a single rose were washed over the feminine creation like an instant perfume.

Suigintou's chest inwardly clenched in slight agony. How dare he? How dare her father trail toward such a magnificent creation? One that outmatched her in every sense of the word? Was she nothing more than a specific prototype of his words? His former appreciation for her was now as thin as a slip of paper.

She wanted to hate him. Let her dwindling, disintegrating heart evaporate into a cold and needless, steady mist that would last for centuries to come. She wanted to witness his flesh crawl over his scrawny bones, as her teeth would gnaw over her lip in pure pleasure of the experience yet she couldn't. She could never bring herself to hate the one being that she truly, effortlessly loved.

She adored her father.

She loved her father.

She wanted him to see her one last time. As his little baby girl. As his doll.

But he would never give that to her.

The only way she could achieve her father's possible affection would be if she had completed the masterful competition that he had formed within that dastardly mind. Unfinished, Suigintou pondered slowly as the intelligent, yet foolish man began to wander into the desolate shadows, with his newly crafted daughter in his arms.

The fallen angel promised herself that she would be the daughter the man wanted. She wanted to be the embodiment of his love; the source of the upcoming perfection.

She promised herself. She promised _him_, that she would be crowned _Alice_.

As a final resort, Suigintou lay there…

And waited.


End file.
